


relapse, baby, stay with me

by minecraftbreadmode



Category: MCSM, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft: Story Mode - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, I love them so much, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Self-Harm, its a happy ending, its all good though, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minecraftbreadmode/pseuds/minecraftbreadmode
Summary: Jesse has been hiding something-- something bad, and in finding out what it is Lukas learns about another aspect of him Jesse didn't talk about.It's new. Scary.But Lukas loves him.





	relapse, baby, stay with me

Lukas saw the mark.

It was red and inflamed, vertically running down Jesse's upper arm, about the length and width of his pointer finger.

It wasn't from a knife or anything, and couldn't have been more than two days old when he noticed it. Not serious or life-threatening. But it was a mark, a cut. Intentional. 

No cut looked like that on accident. 

And maybe there were more, hidden in secret. Maybe there were ones that had been done by knives, scissors, anything. Maybe there were more methods involved. He'd been worrying so much his head ached.

Lukas sighed, leaning against the wall. Jesse sat at the table in the central room, hunched over about a dozen different papers with one pencil in his hand and another tucked behind his ear. The clock was close to striking midnight, filling the area with an incessant tick along with the scratching of his writing utensil. Lukas almost didn't want to disturb him despite the issue of the wound and the fact he hadn't taken a break in over four hours.

He took a deep breath in and walked over to the table, running a hand up Jesse's shoulder. "Hey, we need to talk."

Jesse didn't look up from his work, clearly invested in it. "Can it wait a little, maybe until tomorrow morning? I kind of need to finish this."

Here went nothing. Lukas clenched his fingers to keep them from trembling. "Actually, it can't."

Normally he would let Jesse be. Practically running a town, no matter how much Lukas helped, was no easy task and he knew how much of a necessity it was that Jesse finished what he needed to. But the rest of the Order were away on trips or missions and now was the perfect time to talk. 

Lukas also just really, really wanted to be able to spend time with him. 

Preferably alone. 

Without outside distractions. 

Perhaps a few kisses.

Jesse glanced up at him, a little surprised at his tone of voice. "Okay, amado. Do you want to go sit on the bed to talk?"

"Yeah, that'd be a lot better than here."

Jesse stood, and Lukas followed him back to his room, where Jesse sat cross-legged on his bed, curious. His room was far from neat, but thankfully not completely dirty-- cluttered with art supplies and big pieces of paper, an instrument in the corner, bookshelves filled with miscellaneous items like seashells and a few tiny plants and books from his home. The sheets and blankets were mussed, he hadn't made them.

Standing in front of him, Lukas exhaled slowly. Jesse wouldn't be mad, Lukas was just being a good boyfriend and trying to keep him safe, even if it meant protecting him from himself.

"What happened to your arm? The cut, what's it from?"

Jesse frowned, putting a blank expression on. "What do you mean? I don't have any cuts or anything."

-You need to kick him in the ass a little sometimes,- Olivia had told him when he revealed his relationship to her. -Whether he's not talking, sad, angry, or a little manic. Gets him thinking again. It'll be a little tough, to reverse your usual roles, but I trust you.-

"Jesse, don't lie to me."

Jesse's shoulders slumped immediately, defeated. He got up and rolled the sleeve of his jacket far enough to see it, already bandaged although the ends of the wound poked out.

Lukas felt his throat tighten. "Jesse, I--"

His dark green eyes flitted to the side nervously and he laughed a bit, flat and emotionless. "I guess you would've found out sooner or later. You know a lot about me, but not everything. Don't worry too much, it's just a relapse, I'm not going to start shredding my arms and legs."

Lukas moved his arms slightly, and Jesse pressed forwards so they were standing with only a few inches between them. The pain and distance in his eyes made Lukas want to turn back the clock, do anything to fix whatever was going on. "I didn't want to pressure you, but I had to know in case--"

Jesse took his hands and squeezed them. It was funny, Lukas being comforted when he should be the one doing the comforting.

Jesse was so positive, all the time, which made it nerve-racking when he did falter: mad enough to yell, to not put up with anyone's bullshit, upset enough to not sleep for hours. For Lukas it could be a little scary, to be with someone who had so many ups and downs when Lukas himself didn't know what it was like. However, Lukas was learning, and it wasn't as if Jesse was either full-blown manic or too depressed to eat all the time rather than once in a while.

"Lukas, self-harm was a thing for me for a while. Two and half years, not always frequent. Never knives, never deep cuts with them-- what I did to myself on my own was enough. Bruising, not eating or drinking, overworking myself, deep dark scars with just my hands. But it's okay now, that was a long time ago. Sometimes that's easy to forget, and sometimes taking the easy way out of pain is tempting. It doesn't go away, the temptation, once you've started."

"How long ago?"

Jesse concentrated. "I was fourteen, so. . . three years since the last one, I think?"

"But you're not going to--"

"No, I'm not suicidal," he said softly. "Just slipped up, made a mistake. I can't promise it'll never happen again, though, even if it's only once. I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me, because you don't. I've learned to handle it, apart from the times my brain just goes wack and thinks it can do anything. It’s a matter of self-control."

"I want to be able to help you," Lukas protested. "Relationships are two-way, Jesse, if you support me I support you. If you need to be alone occasionally that's fine, we can adjust. We'll figure something out for those times where your brain ‘goes wack’ if you want to. You can't expect to do everything on your own." Jesse let go of his hands, letting them fall to his sides, looking confused and torn and somewhat relieved all at the same time. 

Lukas held him closer, lips barely brushing his forehead."Where?" he whispered after a silent moment. "The other scars."

The hoodie he was wearing was blotched with paint stains and he pulled it over his head along with the plain shirt underneath, all warm, freckled olive-brown skin and scars and gentle, honest strength. Bare and vulnerable under Lukas' pale palms. Jesse being so open and trusting with him made him feel awed, made him feel scared-- scared of doing something wrong while Jesse bore his insecurities so freely. 

Lukas felt himself flush, was nearly confident Jesse could hear his heart beating hard. 

His eyes followed the twin large, pale scars that ran down the left side of his chest from Mevia's axes, and a hot burst of past anger reignited fired up in his stomach.

Jesse was inviting and shameless, taking one of his hands again and running it over a dark mark near his hip. "There." Moved it up, three smaller parallel lines under his collarbone. "And there." Down again, hastily scratched with thin metal on his stomach. Ten on his legs, dark scars fading with time, Lukas brushing hesitant fingers over them. One on his arm apart from the bandaged scratch.

And those were just the self-harm scars. Lukas could match a few of the others with some sort of memory, Jesse filling in when he didn’t know. Four bigger ones from the Witherstorm on his ribs and chest plus two slightly crooked fingers where they’d been broken. A Nether burn. Glass shards and pieces of iron making visible marks, from the fight with PAMA. Scrapes on his knees. Snapping turtle bite. The one on his jawline where he’d fallen on a rock as a kid. The many on his hands and fingers from physical labor jobs working from dawn to dusk and swords when he was still learning how to use one.

Jesse let him pause, then return, letting his hands wander, murmuring against Lukas' neck the whole time. Lukas tried not to shiver, to falter, even when Jesse turned around snickering and saying his back was probably the worst part.

Lukas ran the tips of his fingers over his shoulders, down his upper arms and over adventuring scars and a few stretch marks from strength and he kissed the back of his neck, pushing his hair aside. Jesse was laughing, the tiny scar at the corner of his upper lip twitching upwards. He took one of Lukas' hands and gently brought his knuckles to his mouth, the other on his lower back.

There was a lot of them. Contrasting with his skin were mostly smaller scars, darker and lighter, that littered his back like his freckles did. Lukas wanted to spend a whole afternoon making constellations out of past pain and tiny spots, allowing his lips to trail down and press between his shoulders on a past burn shaped like an uneven star.

Jesse sighed, slightly leaning into him. "You want me to put my jacket back on?"

"No," Lukas muttered. “And thanks,” he added quietly. He wasn’t sure how to form the right words. I appreciate-- what was he thinking? He was a writer, not a talker, but god right then he wished he was one so he could tell Jesse the depth of what he felt.

Jesse blinked, turning around. “I trust you. You shouldn’t be thanking me.” Then he grinned and spread his hands like he’d just performed a magic act. 

"Ta-da, you've seen almost all of me. Gotta pay up if you want the full event." 

"Stop it!" Lukas laughed, pushing him. 

Then Jesse leaned against his shoulder, turning his face against Lukas’ neck and exhaling. “I know-- I know I’m not perfect,” his hand subconsciously trailed over the twin scars on his chest. “I can’t always--” 

Lukas slid his hands up, along his bare back and holding his face, running his thumb over the tiny scar on Jesse’s upper lip. “Just. . . don’t say anything,” he whispered. He pressed his lips to the scars on Jesse’s fingers, then tilted his chin up and kissed him. 

It was perfect.


End file.
